"This is my thanks."
by Saucie
Summary: Aoshi's thoughts as he hands Megumi her sword, as he fights Okina, and when he returns to the Aoiya. [Complete]
1. Chapter 1

**"This is my thanks."**

I wonder what she is like now. She must be sixteen, at the very least. I wonder whether she is still the tomboy she was, or whether she is a woman now – a woman like the one crouching on the floor in front of me. I wonder if she still has the spirit that she used to, the spirit that drew me to her when she was just a two-year-old.

"Fools," says the woman before me. "Even though I ran off, they still – they're fools, every one of them."

There is a harshness in her voice that surprises me. I expected her to be happy, perhaps, that they've come for her, but she isn't. She doesn't think they will be successful. Well, neither do I. But _she_ would not have that tone, if she were in this situation. She would always have hope – never bitterness, or the coldness that reflects in my eyes. But then … I do not know her anymore. I haven't seen her for eight years, and will probably never see her again. What right do I have to make assumptions about what she would be like now?

What I do next surprises me. I do not know why I came up here; perhaps I just wanted to see this woman again, just to compare her with the woman _she_ would have become in my mind. But looking at this woman, with her cascading dark hair and long lashes, all I can see is a braid snaking around thin shoulders, and wide blue eyes looking up at me through hauntingly dark lashes. My hand moves inside my trenchcoat of its own accord, and her short sword clatters to the floor.

Her eyes widen; she looks up in surprise. For a second I hesitate, wondering at what I am about to say. If it was _her_, would I still do the same? I think of what awaits this woman, and I know I would. "That is yours," I say. "I am returning it to you."

I can see the question in her eyes, the disbelief. She wonders what I am doing – she knows, but she doesn't believe it of me. Do I truly appear that inhuman? Would _she_ recognize me if she saw me like this?

"It is better not to get your hopes up. They will never make it up here."

Is the truth always this cold, or do I make it sound like this? She already knows what I am telling her – why am I wasting my breath? What am I trying to convince her of? No one knows better than her what fate awaits her. So why – 

"In an hour, you'll have nothing to prevent Kanryuu from torturing you." 

There, I have told her that without reason. She _knows_. Why am I saying this? Am I trying to justify my actions to myself? That is not like me; once I decide something, I do not turn back. I listen to my own words, and I know that what I have said is wrong. Something _can_ prevent Kanryuu. Death. And that is what I am offering her.

"A painful life or an easy death."

Someone said that to me once. I remember that, but I do not remember who said it. Was it Okina, perhaps? Or maybe Makimachi-san, her grandfather, some time before I was appointed okashira? Yes, I think it was him. I had told him that I wanted to be the next okashira, and he had told me that if I continued the way I was, I would get the leadership. _But it will not be easy_, he had said. _It will be a hard, painful life, in which you will lose much of what is dear to you. But … if you shun the responsibility, you will have an easy death. And – Aoshi, an easy death is not always the coward's path._

"Choose your own path."

I hadn't completely believed him, when he had said that. Yes, I understood what he meant by it being a hard, painful life – and how right he had been – and that if I had refused the leadership, I would not be standing where I am now. I would be back in Kyoto, with _her_, perhaps … instead of living without shame, without honour, in the way we live now. But the part about an easy death not being the coward's path – well, no, I had not believed that. To die in pain and torture was heroic. What thirteen-year-old does not think that? And so my remaining streak of naïveté had led me to accept the leadership – I had chosen my path.

"We are not concerned with Kanryuu's drugs or money. What we care about is the fight."

What am I doing? I am pouring out my heart to her. I am telling her things that I have told no one – that I have not even allowed myself to _think_ in front of anyone. Not that she understands the significance some of my words hold for me. I wonder whether _she_ would have understood, had I said this to her. No, not likely – but again, how can I know? I do not know her as she is now. I knew a little girl, not the woman she must have become. How can I base what I know of her on a little girl?

"We came to fight for this shady smuggling business, and thanks to you we have some worthy enemies."

That is true, also. I never thought, when I was employed, that I would end up facing Himura Battousai in battle. I know I will – Hannya and the others cannot handle them, I know. It is ironic, really – how a job which, in my opinion, had honour equivalent to fighting for money on the streets could lead me to, perhaps, the chance at the greatest honour of all … the title of the 'strongest' …

"This is my thanks."

That was the truth too. It came straight from my heart, that thanks. Because I knew what I was going to do now. I would finish this job – I owed that to myself, and my honour, and to the others with me – and then I would stop. I would stop scraping for money the way we did, living the way we are. I would return to _her_, just to see what she had become, and then perhaps I would find something else to do. Something more honourable. And maybe – just maybe – I would have the title of the strongest when I returned. And I could thank this woman for that – she had led me to this, had presented me with this opportunity, and I would not let it go.

"You are one of little luck, so I have some sympathy."

I did, truly. But it was not for her _because_ of her. It was because of _her_. It was because this woman could have been her, and I could not let her suffer the way Kanryuu had planned. I wonder, for a second, why I do not name her. It is not painful, in any way, to name her. Misao. It is so simple. But Misao is the girl I left behind, and the person I call _she_ – she is the one who Misao must be now, the one I do not know.

"What you do with it is not my concern."

Yes, I had done what I could. Now it was up to her, to choose. I had given her her chance, and I had given her my thanks. I owed her nothing. She had shown me something I had failed to see over the past eight years, and I was grateful for it. There would be difficulties – there always are – but we would find something. All I wanted at this moment was to see _her_ again. That was all. I knew that the thirst for the title would overcome me the minute I stepped away from this woman, but for now, looking at her, I only wanted to go back to Kyoto and see what Misao had become.

She had my thanks.

A/N: I … have nothing to say, really. About Aoshi wanting to go back to Kyoto – I would think it's only natural, while he's looking at Megumi. I mean, from a purely – ah – innocent point of view, he'd naturally want to see how the girl he half-raised grew up, wouldn't he? And I wanted to show that before Hanya and the others, he was still hopeful – you know, the way he thinks that he and the others would go back and find some sort of life for themselves … I wanted to show that that hope was mainly because he was looking at Megumi and thinking of Misao, because when he's _not_ thinking of Misao, he doesn't show that hope (like when he fights Kenshin later on).

And … enough of the introspections … I think you can go and review now (I won't even _bother_ to say 'hint, hint'). Everything that Aoshi says is from the manga, because that's the only direct source, isn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

**"This is my thanks."**

A/N: You know, I thought about a second part while I was writing the first one, but then I thought, "Nah …" But then I read Susan and Gochi's reviews and thought maybe a sequel wouldn't be such a bad idea. Sorry I didn't reply, though.

"Tell me where Battousai is, Okina, and it ends here."

At least, for him it would end. Not for me. Not until I killed Battousai. And then … then it would end for me too. The way it had ended for Hanya and the others. I could lay the title of the 'strongest' on their graves … and then what? I wonder for barely a second, but it doesn't really matter. What mattered was that I would kill Battousai, and that was all that would ever matter.

"You mock me," he replies. His eyes blaze with pride and determination – and a little sadness. I notice it, but it – just like everything else – does not matter. I lost my honour long ago; I will do what I have to. "I may be an old man, but I am a spy … I am Okina of the Oniwabanshu, and I would never betray a comrade to an enemy!"

_Comrade_ … _to an enemy_ … So Battousai was the comrade, and I was the enemy. How fitting. Battousai, with his easy smiles and his reluctant sword, and me with my icy mask and ever-ready kodachi. Yes, it was very easy to see why I could so easily be the enemy and him the comrade. But … once upon a time I was the one who was comrade. Perhaps without the easy smiles, but still something akin to that. But it is my own fault that I am not anymore. My fault … and Battousai's.

"Then I will destroy you here. And then I will go on to the Aoiya to question the other four ..."

The other four. I wonder why I did not say five. I should have said five – the four that I saw when I was there, and the one I didn't. Misao. But – could I truly 'question' her? Perhaps. But I will make sure that the need does not arise. That is the best way. Whatever else Hanya and the others may want, they cannot want me to physically hurt Misao.

"You will not!" he cries. His eyes blaze again – I am threatening his territory if I venture into the Aoiya, and for that reason alone he will do everything he can to destroy me here. I understand that. He has every right to protect his territory. He does _not_ have the right to aid Battousai.

"Give up," I say coldly. "With only one tonfa you have no chance of victory."

I stab forwards with my kodachi, already anticipating his move. He taught me much, but there is one thing he forgot. He forgot that he taught me how to think like him. He forgot that he taught me to never back out of a commitment. He forgot that he taught me never to stop in the middle of a fight, to give up, to let go. He forgot that he taught me to win.

His breath comes out in gasps as he catches the blade of my sword with his bare hand. "Come on, Aoshi," he grinds out. "Even with one tonfa, one blow with all my strength behind it can tell us a different story."

The Ensatsu Goukoukon. He strikes, and I parry, retaining my stance. I flip my kodachi so that I hold them backhanded. Fine. I had given him his chance – even now, I had been ready to spare him if he had told me where Battousai was. But I knew that he would not, and he hasn't. I hear, above Okina's breathing, the sound of thudding footsteps outside the hut. I must be mistaken – there can be no one here. And even if there is, I can take care of them easily.

The thudding footsteps grow louder. They are bothering me, echoing in my head when one minute ago I was calm and without regret, without feeling.

The Kaiten Kenbu Rokuren. He knows what is coming, and I know that he knows.

 … the footsteps come closer. I can hear the slapping sound of sandals against ground, and the panting of one long out of breath …

I steel myself.

… the thudding grows louder …

I let the kodachi fly.

… and the door flies open, and a girl's voice gasps, "I … made it … "

Okina falls to the floor, blood flowing freely from innumerable wounds all over his body.

There are no more footsteps.

There is no more noise.

There is silence. Utter, absolute silence.

"It's over," I say, more to myself than anything else.

And then I see her. She is standing there against the door, eyes wide with horror. She looks nothing like I remembered – and yet she looks exactly the same. The hair … and the eyes … and the way she is dressed … but no, the eyes are not the same. I have never seen that expression in her eyes before. That utter devastation, the shock, the betrayal …

Should I feel something, looking at her? I don't. She is looking at me now, and still I feel nothing. I hear nothing. I begin to walk towards her … I walk past her, my kodachi dripping blood … dimly, I realise that she will know where Battousai is. She is one of the Oniwabanshu too, after all. But I cannot question her. And I do not think myself weak for not being able to.

I have passed her, and then it hits me. All those memories of me … and of her … and of them … Hanya, and Beshimi, and Hyottoko, and Shikijou … I want to gasp out loud as I feel that pain in my chest. And I know what I have to do. She must forget me. I do not want her to follow me, to ask me for an explanation, as I know she will. She cannot have changed that much. And so I say the words I know I must say, for her own good.

"Get out of here."

She gasps, and I can imagine her eyes. But now that I have said that, I cannot feel anything anymore. The way it was when I saw her for the first time right now. No feeling. No pain. The pain and the hurt will come later – but by then I will be fighting the Battousai, and I will lose myself in that. That is my way of dealing with pain.

"I never want to see your face again."

I don't, truly. I feel nothing now, but I will, and seeing her again will only enhance that pain. Besides, it is easier on her this way. I have severed the ties that we had, and now she can hate me without being bothered by other feelings. That is the way I want it. No illusions. No fake hopes. No dreams that can never be fulfilled. She will feel sharp pain for a while, but then there will be none. Just hate. And that is easy to deal with.

As I walk away, I notice that she is not following. I can hear her sobbing, even as I walk further away. Or maybe that is just my imagination. But it is working, then, if she is not running after me.

And I think back to the black-haired woman to whom I had handed a sword on that fateful day in Kanryuu's mansion. I remember why I offered her that chance to end her life. The shorter pain to prevent the greater. Isn't that what I had done now? For Misao. The shorter, sharper pain to prevent the greater, long-lasting torment. It is not hard to hate. It is harder to care when you know you must hate.

I think of the long-haired woman, and know that if it had not been for her I would never have been able to say this to Misao. If it had not been for that woman, I would not be in this position in the first place. And … I realise that I do not mind being in this situation. No, not right now. Not when there is nothing to feel, no pain to bear. 

She had my thanks.

A/N: On a completely different note, the version of 'Ice Blue Eyes' I downloaded keeps breaking in the middle … and believe me, it is _so_ irritating. I forget where I downloaded it from, though …

And by the way, I was having a lot of trouble with the ending of this. That's what took me so long to get this done. I just couldn't get that last phrase in properly. But, what the heck, it's done, so I can start on the third part now …

Disclaimer: (Oh, shit, forgot all about this …) Heh. Mine? Puh-lease.


	3. Chapter 3

**"This is my thanks."**

****

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Shuffle.

Step.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Step.

Step.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A gasp.

We stop immediately. Sagara puts a hesitant hand to Battousai's shoulder and brings it away, covered with blood. "Oh shit," he breathes, shifting his burden to the other shoulder. The blood must have come from the bite-mark – the wound in his abdomen had stopped bleeding a long time ago. Battousai gasps again, and Sagara arranges him more comfortably, his face grim.

We resume our walk in silence, interrupted only by the steady dripping of blood from Battousai's numerous wounds. The gash across my chest is oozing blood, also, but I barely notice it. Sagara's hand, broken and bloody, is his only serious injury. Neither of us suffers from anything life-threatening.

The Aoiya must be close now. I do not want to think about our reception. Battousai and Sagara will be welcomed with open arms – more than that – no doubt. I, on the other hand … I do not know what to expect, but I do know what I deserve. I deserve to be cast out onto the street, with nothing and no one. I deserve to die. I do not deserve a second chance.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Step.

Step.

"Oh _shit_ … " breathes Sagara again, only this time he is not even looking at Battousai. I raise my eyes from the ground and look ahead at the spot where the Aoiya should have been, but instead I see nothing but broken planks and rubble.

My heart thuds painfully against my ribs. It is … destroyed?

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit … " Sagara mumbles to himself incoherently, staggering for a second under the weight he carries. Battousai may not weigh much, but Sagara must be tired from the day's events, and he too is injured. For a second I am about to offer to carry him, but then I do not. For one thing, Sagara would never trust me with Battousai as he was. And for another, he deserved to be the one who brought him home.

I looked again at the Aoiya, and feel a strange twang of relief. It is not completely destroyed, I see, as we come closer. And there are figures milling around, putting out fires and erecting makeshift shelter for the night. Some people are seated on top of the tottering structure that remains, swinging their legs as they drink tea sitting astride the planks.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Step.

Step.

"And Soujiro said that the attack was _not_ successful … " murmurs Sagara, brushing his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand – a tired gesture that does not suit him.

I say nothing. It is now only a matter of time before the people near the Aoiya notice us. I suddenly realise that I am nervous, and that makes me angry. I was not nervous – not apprehensive – when I fought Battousai, so why should I be now?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Step.

Shuffle.

This time it is me who shuffles, who drags his feet reluctantly, instead of Sagara. He notices the faltering in my footsteps and glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and I realize that he is smirking slightly. Strangely enough, I do not feel angry at him. Or maybe that is not so strange after all.

And then it happens. There is a shout as someone sitting on the half-erected planks spots us, and almost everyone stops what they are doing and turn to look. I suddenly have a mad desire to turn around and run. But no.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Step.

A pause. Then … step.

We are right before the Aoiya now, and I can hear the whispers – the spreading news. Do they talk about my return, or Battousai's condition? It doesn't really matter. I raise my eyes to the porch – the only thing that has been truly left standing – but I do not get the chance to take in the damage properly.

"Kenshin!"

The scream is anguished, piercing the suddenly silent night with agonising clarity. Someone is running towards us with stumbling footsteps, someone with long black hair and tears streaming from wide blue eyes. For a minute I think it is Misao, but I know immediately that it is not. She is taller, for one thing, and she looks older. I have seen her before, but her name slips my mind.

"Gods … Sanosuke, what happened to him?!" There is desperation in her voice that borders on hopelessness, but she is not about to give in to her emotions so easily, I can see. Already, she is straightening herself, wiping away her tears to appear stronger than she feels. 

Battousai had found someone more than worthy of him.

"He'll be fine, Jou-chan," says Sagara, his voice filled with confidence I know he does not feel. "We – we just need to get him a doctor – that's all – "

I look away from them, catching a flash of movement towards my right. I look up at the planks, where now only one person is sitting – the rest are on the ground, tending to Battousai and Sagara. No one looks at me, although their curiosity is palpable.

I let my eyes travel up – taking in her sandalled feet, her bruised legs, swinging nonchalantly as she perches atop the plank, her muddied clothes, the bandages visible underneath her torn sash, the shadows under her eyes, and … the expression of absolute happiness on her face.

My eyes meet hers, and I have no idea what to say. Even in that hut, I had never made eye contact with her. She is looking down at me with that unbelievable joy reflected in her eyes, and I feel that whatever I say will not – cannot – be adequate.

"Sorry I can't come down, Aoshi-sama!" she calls, smiling. Her smile lights up the entire area, erasing the worried, depressed air that pervades the place. "If you could – if you could call Shiro, maybe he'll come help me … I injured myself, you see, so I can't get down."

She sounds so much like she used to when she was small and used to get stuck while climbing trees. She would never allow me to come up after her – she would always ask me to call someone, so that I would not have to climb up myself. Without thinking, as if those ten years that we had spent apart did not even exist, I say, "Why did you climb up in the first place?"

Her expression goes carefully blank, and I feel the thickness of the atmosphere press in on me again. Her voice is low when she answers, "I – I wanted to be the first one to see you come back."

There is something about the way that she says 'you' that makes me think that she is not referring to Battousai and Sagara as well. She is talking only about me, as if she knew I would return. I have no idea what to say again, so I continue to look at her as she yells out to Shiro, who comes hurrying back, clambering up beside her and lowering her down to the ground gently. Vaguely, I wonder if I can ever earn the right to touch her like that again, when once upon a time it was my right alone.

She is right in front of me now, looking up at me with that same indefinable joy in her eyes. Is – is it me causing her to be so happy? The thought is elating, but even as I push it away, I know that there is no other reason for her to be so happy as she looks into my eyes.

It is my turn to say something. But what can I say?

Sorry?

How woefully inadequate. 'Sorry' can never cover the depth of feeling that I want to convey. No words can. So … I say nothing. But I have to tell her somehow – I owe it to Battousai … and I owe it to her.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Step.

I look down with a vague feeling of surprise to see that it is my own blood dripping to the ground now, instead of Battousai's. I have taken a step closer to her, but I cannot make myself come any closer. Her eyes drop to focus on my injuries, and they cloud over immediately. I feel as if another light has gone out, and that the world is now as dim and dark as it always was.

"Aoshi-sama," she says, reaching out a tentative hand to push the folds of my trenchcoat aside. I stand stiff and straight as she runs a finger down the length of my wound, careful not to press it in case she causes me pain. Just the brush of her finger hurts, but I say nothing. 

There is a pause, as she cocks her head and looks at it with a professional air, then says, "I think we better get a doctor to look at that, ne?"

I shrug. I find that I cannot think anymore. My brain seems to be shutting down – maybe the loss of blood is finally making itself known. I follow her as she steps onto the porch, wincing a little and pressing a hand to her side as she ascends the steps. It looks to me as if she has broken a couple of ribs, and in my opinion she should really be resting … but I know she never will.

"Megumi-san!" she calls, and I feel a vague sense of surprise. I had assumed that it would be the local doctor who would be attending to all those injured, not … that woman.

"H-Hai?" comes a flustered response from inside the only room left standing. "If there's somebody else out there, Misao-san, tell them that I'm attending to someone who's a lot more seriously injured and – "

"How long will it take you to patch Himura up?" she asks bluntly, sliding open the slightly burnt door and peering in. "He looks terrible!"

Professional and business-like, someone comes to the door, snapping irritably, "Don't open that! I don't want the entire city in here, thank you! This is delicate work, and there isn't much I can do for him, so just let me do what I _can_ in peace – " She stops, noticing me for the first time. She takes an unconscious step backwards, and I avert my eyes immediately. I wonder, suddenly, how much Misao knows about the events in Kanryuu's mansion.

"But – but when you're done, can you attend to Aoshi-sama, please?" says Misao, biting her lip as she looks at Battousai's prone form. 

Perhaps she knows very little.

The woman in the doorway looks from me to Misao, then back to Battousai, and says, after a pause, "All right. It will not take me long – wait outside. I just have some bandages to apply."

Impulsively, Misao throws her arms around the woman's neck. "Thanks, Megumi-san!" she says, then backs up, blushing. "G-Gomen – "

The black-haired woman laughs. "It's all right, like I said, Misao-chan. Now, let me get back to work – you don't want Ken-san to bleed to death on us _now_, do you?"

She shook her head vehemently, allowing the doctor to return to her work, sliding the door shut after her. Turning back to me, she opens her mouth as if she is going to say something, then shuts it again. She takes a few steps and sits down on the edge of the porch, inviting me to sit with her. It hurts to bend myself like that, but I seat myself anyway.

There is silence. I wonder where Okina is. I am glad that he is not here – I would have absolutely no idea what to say to him. Not that I know what to say to Misao, either. I know I must apologise, but … there are no words that can express what I feel. There rarely are.

And suddenly, Misao starts speaking. She doesn't sound like she did earlier – that absolute joy is not there anymore, but there is still an underlying happiness that is hard to miss. Her voice is quiet and controlled and soothing, and oddly enough I find myself listening to her tone and not her words. Or maybe that is just because my mind is not functioning well enough to comprehend what she is saying.

" … and I don't know whether you meant it or not, Aoshi-sama, and I _do_ care, I really do – because I wouldn't be human if I didn't, would I? – but it doesn't really affect anything, you know. We're all glad you're back – we really are – and … and I know things can never be the way they were – I would be stupid to think that – but maybe we can find something, some other balance, that's different from before, you know what I mean? Because I really, really want to find a balance, a – a centre … Himura told me that, you see. He said that everyone needs to find an anchor in their lives, a centre, someone who balances them, because without them they can never get along … he said that you are responsible for their happiness and their tears, and their … their balance … "

_Do you know that this strong girl wept over you?_

"And so … I mean, like I said, it can't be like it was, but it can be something else, can't it? We can find something else. I mean, we can't just forget about everything that has happened, but I … I would really like to. Forget, I mean. But, it's just not possible."

_Do you know that you are the only person in the world who can honestly answer for those tears?_

"But … I don't know what I'm trying to say here, Aoshi-sama, I just – well, I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to be scared that we won't accept you, or something, and that whatever happens, we'll find _some_ arrangement, some balance. Nobody wants apologies, and if I know you nobody's going to get them." She grins, but I can see wetness on her cheeks. "So … I just … well, I'm just glad you're back. I guess that's what I'm trying to say, during all this pointless babbling. I'm … glad you're back."

_. . . answer for those tears . . ._

I look over Misao's head and see that the shoji door has slid open, and the dark-haired doctor is standing in the doorway, looking at us with some unreadable expression on her face. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles. It is a slight smile, a smile of forgiveness and understanding, and I am grateful.

Grateful. That, too, is not a wide enough word to convey my feelings, but it is close. Yes, it is close. As Misao turns to smile at me, I glance at the doctor once again. If it wasn't for her, I would never be here. How many times had I said that to myself, on so many different occasions? And now, now I am truly grateful. To her. For bringing me back to Misao, for showing me so many things that I had refused to see …

She had, and always would have, my thanks. 

A/N: Finished. Finally. Well, it didn't even take me that long … this bit was easier to write, because I didn't have anything that actually happened that I had to base it on, really. You know, even though I will support Aoshi/Misao to the death, I'm beginning to think that Aoshi and Megumi have … potential …

Nah, don't worry, I'm just scaring you. By the way, the correction my spelling-checker gives for Battousai is 'boathouse'. I was rolling on the floor laughing when I read that. Anything else? Oh yeah … I think I'll go revise the first chapter of this. I'm not exactly … satisfied … with the way I start it.

Disclaimer: 'Kay, so … disclaimer … you know, I really don't get why this is necessary. I mean, it is so _obvious_ that all these characters do not belong to us writers that there really isn't any point in screaming, _"This isn't mine_!" all the time, is there? But … *sigh* … here goes … This isn't mine!!! 


End file.
